


Not the way it should be, but the way they'll try to make work

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Ghost Swap 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: He's /not/ a dad, but he's got a mystery and a kid to juggle now. Scenes for an AU in which Cabanela raises Kamila instead.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Not the way it should be, but the way they'll try to make work

**Author's Note:**

> Ghost Swap 2019 gift for playghosttrick at Tumblr who prompted a Cabanela raises Kamila instead AU.

1.

Time passed in a slow blur interspersed with sharp overly bright points of unreality. The nonsensical call came first. A fast and furious ride followed. The meeting, more nonsense, unmet demands and then the world slowed to a halt as Cabanela stood in the cold grey room and stared down at _her_ face.

That wasn’t Alma. She was too pale, too still. That wasn’t her. An eternity passed him by while he stood outside in the hall gathering himself into… something else. Something that could function.

More time, another meeting. More demands failed to land home. The chief earned a look of disbelief as he calmly told Cabanela that he was to go on leave—they looked into his records—he’d never taken time off. No, he was too close to this case. Nonsense, it meant he knew the so-called criminal best. No, take time; they understood arrangements would need to be made. Take time as if this was some kind of favour instead of torture.

Now time slowed again as he stood outside another door. She was given a quiet room. She’d been left alone too long—what was Jowd _thinking?_

Cabanela breathed out, pushed aside the overwhelming storm and stepped in. There was an officer there, couldn’t remember his name and it didn’t matter next to the sight of the girl sitting in a chair too large for her, her knees drawn up to her chest, lavender hair falling over her face.

The officer was shooed out with a wave and Cabanela waited until the door clicked shut again. “Kamila.”

With a shiver Kamila looked up from her knees. “U-uncle Cabs…”

He held out a hand to her. “Heeey. Let’s get out of here, hm? I’ll take you home.”

After a moment’s hesitation she took it, her own hand shaking as she did so, and slid off the chair. He kept her close as he guided her out into the station proper only to stop and veer to his desk after a moment of his own uncharacteristic uncertainty. His bike wasn’t well-suited to two, it was so late as was, and dark and cold. No, he wouldn’t subject Kamila to that at the end of this nightmare.

More time passed in an endless seeming blur. The taxi took them home in silence and then they stood in Cabanela’s flat. Kamila retreated to the sofa to huddle against the arm.

“Can I get you anything?” Cabanela asked. He couldn’t imagine trying to eat anything, but it must have been hours since she’d last had something and his hands itched for something, anything to do. She shook her head.

After a moment’s silence and stillness Cabanela went into his kitchen and a daze started to descend after the last several frantic and devastating hours. His hands worked automatically, setting up the kettle to boil for tea. As late as it was sleep was out of the question.

It was as he poured a cup, he heard the telltale sniffle. It was enough to propel him back to the couch with a sense he’d only been waiting for this. Kamila’s head was buried in her arms over her knees. She looked up as Cabanela took a seat beside her.

Kamila’s voice broke over her words. “Dad said it was a nightmare, but it’s not stopping. Why won’t it stop? I want dad. I want mom.”

Cabanela swallowed and gathered her into his arms. She clung to him, her voice cracking as she tried to speak more.

“Mom, mommy… I want mom. I want mom!”

He held her close as her voice dissolved into unintelligible words while she sobbed into his shirt. There were no words to be said. There was… nothing to be done right now but hold her and stare hollowly at the wall. Nothing.

He held on, rocking her a little and petting her hair. How much time passed he couldn’t say, but eventually her sobs calmed to quiet tears and hiccups. Exhaustion won out and she fell asleep in his arms. That made one of them. He carefully laid her back out on the couch and fetched a blanket for her before returning to the kitchen.

The tea had gone cold. He dumped it with a look of distaste and stood frozen, watching it drain away. Gone… Suddenly lacking the energy to bother with another cup, he sagged into a chair at his table instead. 

How did it come to this? Just that afternoon he’d taken advantage of his lunch break to stop by Alma’s workplace to drop off flowers and have a quick chat. He’d left cheerfully; he’d see them both tonight. Jowd refused a visit and all his demands fell on deaf ears. He’d see her tonight… A still pale face. Gods… With a shudder he slumped over the table, dropping his face into his arms as the barriers he’d held up all night crumbled with an escaped sob, and he wept until darkness took him.

Cabanela woke to the kitchen light still on. It was still dark out; the light of the streetlamps were just visible through the window as he dragged his head up from the table. A squint through gritty blurred eyes at the clock told him it was around 5:30. He’d been down for a couple of hours then, probably, give or take. Close enough and he rose from the seat with a grimace at the stiffness in his back from his awkward positioning.

Kamila would hopefully remain asleep for at least a few hours more, poor girl. He had time to plan the day, figure out which steps to take first and how best to handle this new living situation. There was a great deal to do for that alone beyond… everything else. At the very least make her stay comfortable for as long as this lasted and take some small comfort in her being with someone she knew—what was Jowd thinking?

It was far from ideal, but this wouldn’t have to be for long if he had anything to say about it and he had a great deal.

2

Parenthood was a role Cabanela had been entirely determined to stay well away from. A role approximating that of fun uncle, to come and go as he pleased suited him well enough. This was a new experience made all the more unwelcome by the circumstances.

 _He_ shouldn’t be doing this and _she_ should be home and happy. As neither of them could have what they wanted they could only muddle along as best they could and muddling was not something he did and yet there were so many aspects of the whole affair he had never considered before.

Minor upsets and grazed knees, a crossing of schedules, his own and school. Babysitters—thank the gods for Lynne. The dreaded but inevitable sick days; he couldn’t afford to take days off, but Lynne couldn’t always be available either, so he could only do the best he could to make the poor kid comfortable, hope it passed quickly and prayed he wouldn’t fall to the same fate; he couldn’t afford that either.

Then there was keeping track of her school and making sure homework and the likes were done, and forms signed—nothing new there compared to work even if the subject matter was entirely different (signing permission slips was more pleasant than signing off on reports at any rate)—and now he leaned against his kitchen counter while she stood by and skimmed over her report card. Good grades and pleasant comments that didn’t say a whole lot to his eyes:

‘she was a pleasure to have in class and a hard worker’ etc etc. All in all she was a good kid, _obviously_. None of this was news.

He still took her out for ice cream that evening. They could both use it. A celebration, nothing like it.

3

Only the kitchen light remained on and Cabanela lounged at the table, gaze fixed on the opposite wall but seeing something else entirely. It had been a long day that started early and ended late—Lynne hadn’t seemed to mind staying longer—but he’d have to do better next time. A case was closed, but it wasn’t The Case. It was another distraction made worse by how many times he thought of what He might have said or done. Over a year of this and he felt little closer than where he’d started.

“Another point for me, baby. You’re gettin’ yourself a lot of catch-up to do my friend,” he muttered. If he would only fess up, they could start solving this case once and for all. That would be a victory above all others and Jowd was welcome to it if it meant an end to this.

A slight sound caught his attention and he stiffened, eyes flicking toward the entry way. “Kamila?” And relaxed as she shuffled into the kitchen, her head bowed.

“Youuu’re supposed to be asleep.” Not that he was one to talk and while she never said anything she had a way of looking that said it all. It was a look he’d recognized immediately as reminiscent of Alma as it was. There was maybe little point to it, but he acknowledged their points as existing and left it at that. She wore no such look this time.

“I just wanted a drink,” she mumbled.

And that’s why her hands were clasped just so and she remained fixated on the floor. Riiight. “What’s really eatin’ you?”

“Bad dreams again…”

 _Ah._ “Weeell now, there’s only one thing to do about that, kiddo.” He swept up from his seat and with a flourish spun out the chair opposite. “Come on.”

Water wasn’t going to cut it here and once she was settled he set about making hot chocolate. Only the best would do here with all the trimmings.

Kamila stared wide-eyed at the mug of cocoa he placed before her, topped off with a decadent display of cream, chocolate sauce and chocolate flakes and a dash of cinnamon. “But it’s so late. I know I’m supposed to be sleeping…”

“Were you sleepin’?” Cabanela asked as he took his seat back with an equally decked out mug of his own.

“…No.”

He lifted his mug toward her. “And so there we have it, kiddo. Cheers.”

Warm, sweet and chocolate-y, just what he needed without realizing it. More important was the way Kamila’s eyes lit when she took her first sip before drinking more deeply of it. They sat in a pleasant silence enjoying their chocolate until Kamila set down her empty mug with a stifled yawn.

“Feeeelin’ better?”

“Yeah,” Kamila said with a small nod and let slip another yawn.

“Ready to go back to bed?” Before she fell asleep at the table. Nice table, not comfortable in his personal experiences.

“I guess… I don’t want more bad dreams.”

“Ahh that’s the seeeecret behind a good cup of cocoa. Keeps the bad dreams away, didn’t you know?”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Does it?”

“Would I lie?”

“You did sign that one project…”

“About anything important?” Touché, kid, but he still held the point. He knew useless busywork when he saw it.

Kamila giggled a bit and yawned again. “Okay…”

Cabanela accompanied her to her room where she buried herself back under her blankets. 

“Cabs?” She stared up from the bed. “I don’t wanna be by myself…”

“I’m right here.” He reached back for the clasp and undid his necklace. His hand lingered over the pendant as he set it on the end table before stepping back. “That was a gift from your parents. We’re all here.”

Kamila’s eyes widened and she turned over to her side, snuggling deeper into her pillow. She stared at it until her eyes drooped shut and Cabanela left the room, leaving the pendant by her side.

4.

Kamila was quieter and kept to herself more than she used to before the day everything went wrong and that only continued as she grew older with an ever widening independence streak. It helped in some ways amidst his countless investigations and the building responsibilities as he climbed through the ranks. That balance of time only grew more difficult as more mysteries surfaced, important ones he’d stake everything on mattering to the biggest case of all. However, he always did his best to make some time for her.

And some days were indisputable. He would be home and that would be that. Alma’s birthdays were observed always—no excuses—with a visit to her grave with flowers and a shared dinner she loved. On this day he would never allow Kamila to face it alone.

As for her own birthdays she’d grown averse to big parties or any big deals made. On one hand it was a shame missing out on a good party, but on the other at least he didn’t have to think of party locations to keep a hoard of kids away from his spotless apartment. She would however be spoiled with cake and presents and that was that on that.

His time grew more limited as the months went on and she spent more time going between his home and Lynne’s. He did, however, have ample time to listen to her chatter excitedly over dinner about the new puppy Lynne got, and for a little while the many thoughts he juggled retreated to a quiet background buzz and the evening grew warm and soft.

5.

“Uncle?” Kamila’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as if she didn’t really want to be heard. She stared at her dinner still mostly untouched. Cabanela pulled himself from rerunning his conversation with the professor; he was proving to be a most interesting and helpful fellow.

“Hmm?” He waited. Let her fill in the widening silence.

She finally took a deep breath and the words tumbled out all at once. “I wanna see dad. Actually see him, not call. Can I visit?”

Now she wanted to visit? Calls were rare and seldom went very well—the man had a lot of work to do when he got out—and he would be out soon. He could certainly set something up, and break his avoidance of the special prison. He could even join her… and destroy his carefully set barriers and distance. No, but he didn’t have to be there with her once she is in (oh how tempting it was).

“I’ll see what I can dooo,” he said simply.

Kamila’s shoulders sagged with relief and she went back to her food with a little more enthusiasm.

The place was a gloomy box of stone when it came down to it. As they passed through the courtyard Kamila pressed closer to him.

“Does he really have to be locked up here? With all the other bad people?”

Cabanela side-eyed her. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? Put her mind at ease. “This is a speeecial place. No one here’s a danger.” Except possibly to themselves, one of them anyway. Stubborn jerk.

“So dad’s safe here?”

“That’s right!” Cabanela said with more cheer than he felt. At least they had that much. At least that.

Inside, he left her to wait while he spoke with one of the guards.

“I’ve brought a visitor for the prisoner, D99. His daughter wants to see him. Be a good chap and briiing him up for me, would you?”

“Yes, Inspector!”

“Thaaat’s a good fellow. I’ll be just outside.”

The guard left and Cabanela rejoined Kamila outside the room. Jowd would be brought up, Kamila could go in, simple and kept him out of this. Kamila looked nervous, biting at her lip and staring at the door. She jumped when the door opened again revealing the guard. The guard glanced at Kamila then back to Cabanela.

“Erm, Inspector, a word?” Back inside the room, with the door firmly shut behind them, the guard spoke again. “D99 refuses, sir. Says she shouldn’t be here and she shouldn’t talk to a murderer.”

“I seeee.”

“I could try again…?”

“He has a right for refusal. Nothin’ more to it. We’ll be out of your haaair.” Cabanela started to twirl away when the guard spoke up again with a twang of nerves in his voice.

“I just can’t believe it after all this time. Is it really true, Inspector? They say you knew him… I don’t understand how he…. _Why_ he would do such a terrible thing. Do you really believe it?”

“I belieeeve in evidence, baby. It spoke loud and clear.”

With that he left the room, closing the door with a tidy click and was met with Kamila’s wide-eyed stare. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Her head bowed and hands clasped together. “Okay…”

“Heeey, do you want some ice cream? A liiittle pick-me-up, what do you say?”

“I wanna go home…” she mumbled.

He had a _lot_ of work to do when this was all over. Home it was and she didn’t speak again until they were inside when she stopped on her way to the couch.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?”

Cabanela stared, briefly wondering if he’d misheard that. Of course he didn’t hate her, entirely the opposite in his own misguided way if Cabanela’s suspicions proved correct—he prayed some were wrong, though exactly how he couldn’t say, but they would find out soon.

“Not at all. He wants you safe.”

“Well, he should!” Kamila burst out. Her voice wavered and cracked. “And you should hate me too!” She spun on her heel and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Cabanela stood still, the weight of dread settling deeper. The pieces had been building to a terrible picture and they were so close to completing it… nearly all of it; one important piece was still missing and if they could prove it, it needed to be found. If not, well they would still have the culprit and could move from there. His suspicions grew since he walked into the house that terrible day over four years ago. “And you should hate me…” Gods not that. Not her.

He went to her door and knocked. This needed to be settled now. A muffled sniffle was all he got in response. “Kamila, I need to talk to you. It’s reaaal important. I’m openin’ up, okay?”

A moment and still no response. He opened the door and leaned on the frame. Kamila sat on her bed against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried in her arms. He was suddenly reminded of the smaller girl in a too-large chair.

“I don’t hate you. Faaar from it, but I do need some answers, answers you can give, can’t you?”

“He said to forget it,” she said between sniffles.

“Who?” The culprit or… “Was it your dad?”

“Y…yeah.”

Cabanela stepped forward propelled by sympathy and exasperation. He alighted on the edge of her bed. “Your dad is brilliant and the most stubborn idiot I have the good fortune to knooow.”

Kamila looked up at that, tears still running down her cheeks. “What?”

“It made no sense back then. Obviously he didn’t do it, but why take the fall? Why protect a criminal, unless who he was protectin’ wasn’t the criminal at all.”

“But I made it!” Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clapped over her mouth with a shudder.

“There was the gun on the wall. Remember that?”

She nodded automatically.

“I walked in that day and saw a whole lot of stuff lyin’ around that had no place like that and one thing that should’ve been there and wasn’t. I know your work.” So many contraptions and set-ups, bemusing and fascinating in their way until she quit after that day. It could’ve been merely for the reminder, but it was so much more, wasn’t it?

“He hid what really happened well,” he continued, “for anyone who didn’t know the place. Left me a trail a mile wide.” A trail that ended in a dead-end thanks to not being able to _find_ the gun, but it had given him something to hold onto at least. “That gun was connected.”

“I didn’t put it there,” Kamila whispered between her hands. “But it was connected… I was the only one there. It had to be me.”

There. In some ways a weight lifted. Confirmation at last. “You didn’t do it,” Cabanela said firmly.

“I made it. Dad’s in jail because of me. Mom is… Mom is…” She broke into a fresh wave of tears.

“Look at me.”

Her head jerked up and Cabanela caught her gaze. “You did not do this. Yours isn’t the only case like this.”

“It’s… not?”

“It’s not. I’ve been workin’ on a real big case and it’s all connected. I’m getting to the bottom of this. It’ll all be over soon.”

“You can fix it?”

“I will. But I’m gonna be gone even more often.”

“It’s okay… There’s Lynne.” She sniffled. “And Missile. And if dad comes back…”

“No ifs about it kiddo.”

Kamila took a shaky breath and lunged forward, flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt with another quiet sob. Cabanela hugged her close.

This was it. All the evidence had started to point that way. Impossible acts the apparent perpetrators couldn’t explain. This was the most impossible one of all. He knew their next step, had talked to the professor about it. They still needed proof of the Manipulator’s existence and powers.

He eyed the top of Kamila’s head. If there was any way to assure they got this right, who better than the creator herself? And get her tied up in this mess, something he tried to avoid completely the past few years—part of the whole point of dealing with this in secret, wasn’t it? No, he had to trust the professor would get it right. She was _not_ going to be dragged into this anymore.

They were almost there and she would no longer have anything to fear.

6.

Cabanela swung off his bike and stopped to stare at the door. He needed to be calm. A frantic energy drove him all day and while speaking with the professor before attempting to go home helped, he still felt the terrible urge to do _something_ , anything. But there was nothing to be done right now. Plans were being put into motion and waiting games were all a part of it.

The only thing he had to do was be himself and pretend nothing was wrong. So he twirled through his entrance, tossed his scarf over its hook with a flourish and hung his coat with equal flair. Kamila sat on the sofa reading and wearing her headphones, so he gave her a cheery wave and went into the kitchen, frowned at the oven and ordered food in instead.

And so on over dinner and into the evening until Kamila went to bed and he sunk onto the sofa that felt larger than ever. Kamila couldn’t know about this. She didn’t _need_ to know about this; it would never come to pass. Jowd wouldn’t win this. Jowd’s death would not come.

7.

Everything was quiet once more, his only company a ghost gone silent and the professor who kept an eye on him, but otherwise seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. Well, Cabanela had his own thoughts to wrestle with in an effort to maintain consciousness. Just a little longer. Just a little more. He could do this much. He was trapped here and soon to be so in the hospital which was a terrible thought to consider for later.

Not being able to continue stung. After all this time and work he fell right at the end. Only knowing Jowd had this now softened that particular blow if not the rest.

Kidnapped. The little warrior’s confused worry surfaced in his memory again and no amount of apologies would ever mend this particular failure. Kamila was supposed to be safe; she was under his protection. It was bad enough Lynne got wrapped up in this; she was supposed to be safe too—maybe not happy, but safe. He tried to keep Kamila out of this; she should have had nothing more to do with it. She suffered too much as was.

He failed her. He failed Jowd.

There was nothing else to it as the paramedics arrived and he was carefully moved to a stretcher—not carefully enough for his battered traitor of a body—he nearly lost his tenuous grip on consciousness right there. All he could do now was send a stray thought to Sissel with his thanks, his best wishes and a plea to help them every way the ghost could.

Jowd had this. Jowd would get his daughter back. They would be a family again. For a little while he could finally… let go.

8.

Cabanela trotted up to their door and only after the briefest hesitation whirled in. No need to bother Alma, who was likely busy with the resident toddler, or force Jowd to get up with that leg by knocking. A brief hesitation and another flash of guilt. He was welcome and still was despite his mistakes on that awful day.

Jowd sat on the couch with his leg up and he nodded his greeting at Cabanela’s entrance with a small smile. Alma sat on the floor with Kamila surrounded by toys and she smiled at his entrance. On seeing him, Kamila scrambled up.

“Cabby!”

She started to run and teetered. Cabanela swept down and caught her before she hit the floor. Alma paused mid-rise. Kamila giggled and clung to him.

“Hi!”

“Heeey kiddo!” he said brightly back and found himself hugging her without a second thought. Alma raised an eyebrow when the hug lingered longer than the usual fast affair (after a check for just how messy she was). He had no explanation for this now, but it felt… right.

It was Kamila who broke the hug first, wriggling away, and she dragged him over to her toys to show him the latest—a very handsome dog plush indeed. When he was released he twirled over to join Jowd on the couch.

They were all here. A contentment washed over him. Despite his terrible mistake, Jowd’s oddness since that day and the sudden unexpected arrival of the cat—who now just entered, gave him a long stare and jumped up onto couch back near Jowd’s head—everything was right.

Things could have gone so much worse in so many ways, Cabanela knew. But they didn’t. They only had to keep looking up and forward to a bright future.


End file.
